Strength in Numbers
by Mirrored Illusions
Summary: A drunken woman rambles at Faith about having killed a man with mind-control powers.
1. Drunken Confessions

Written for the 2018 August Fic-A-Day Challenge, Day 6.

Disclaimer: The Buffyverse belongs to Joss and Jessica Jones belongs to Marvel.

"...and then the fucker ordered everyone to start killing each other," Faith's current drinking partner slurred somewhat before she threw back another shot and waved the bartender for another one. "Then when I'd almost reached him he yelled 'stop' and everyone just stopped and looked to him. I pretended I had to follow his orders. He didn't believe me at first, but then he finally did."

Jessica signaled the bartender for another shot. "Then he tried to use Trish against me, but I fooled the evil prick and broke his neck." Another shot and this time Faith drank with her. Neither of them was all that sober anymore, but this was both a celebration for some evil wannabe big bad getting killed and a pity party because he forced her to become a killer, so being able to walk the line wasn't the endgame here.

"I never wanted to kill anyone before him, and I didn't want to kill him either. Not at first." The dark-haired woman watched the liquid in her glass go 'round and 'round in circles as she moved the drinking container. "But I had to kill him. There was no one else." She took the shot.

Faith looked at her newfound drinking companion. She'd only gone into the bar to get someone to scratch her itch before she did some patrolling, but had instead somehow ended up listening to some woman, who claimed to be a P.I., tell her she'd killed some evil human with mind-control powers. She'd also claimed that drinking was the least of her problems when Faith had pointed out she was drinking both too fast and too much.

An hour, much alcohol, and a disjointed history later and they left the bar unsteadily. Faith wasn't as sloshed as the other woman, but she would've failed a sobriety test if given one. The two women stumbled drunkenly down the street, partly leaning on each other for support when their balance failed, and partly on nearby walls, trash cans, and streetlights.

"Fuck," Faith exclaimed as she was a hair's breadth from crashing into a pedestrian, but managed to avoid the man at the last second. Her almost victim cursed right back at her and threw her an annoyed glare to go with it. She just showed him the middle finger in retaliation without stopping. The half-turn caused her to almost fall, but her friend's fast moving hand kept her upright.

Stumbling along they made it to just below a fire escape where her new friend decided to jump up and start climbing. Faith's fuzzy mind tried to tell her something about that, something about it not adding up, but she pushed it aside and jumped up after her instead.

The fire escape led to an open window and when Faith looked up all she saw was a tight ass in grey skinny jeans and a pair of black boots. It was a nice enough view so she kept climbing and made it through the window. Once she was upright inside the room, not even the alcoholic haze could stop her mind from noticing it was completely trashed.

"Nice place you got," she said without thinking. "Been redecorating?" Her living space in Sunnydale had been much smaller and with less furniture. Her current, Council-paid apartment was definitely several steps above this one.

Her new friend, and yeah, she really should ask her name, just snorted from the next room. "Had some help."

Faith gave the room a drunken once-over, "Yeah, I bet they were really helpful." There was a large hole in one wall and smaller ones in the others. A shelf had clearly had someone or something knocked into it as most of the shelving was broken and their contents were strewn at the base of it.

When she entered the first door she came across she saw the other woman was laying on the large bed, fast asleep. Her jacket and both boots had been removed, but she hadn't managed to get under the covers. Faith mentally shrugged; she was already here, might as well take a nap. Maybe whatever she was supposed to ask this woman would come to her in the morning. She followed up that thought by removing her own jacket and boots and then climbed under the covers on the other side of the bed.


	2. The Morning After the Night Before

Written for the 2018 August FAD, Day 9.

The next morning Faith was woken by the insistent ringing of her cell phone. Rather than open her eyes to the no doubt sunlit room she simply stretched out her arm towards the nightstand and the offending sound. Shortly after she was rewarded by silence after hitting the call button, a not-so-awake "Hello," and then she had Buffy's cheery voice in her ear.

"Good morning, sunshine! And how are you this lovely morning?"

Faith growled and got an amused laughter in return. "What time is it?"

"It's just after 8:30 in the morning. Where are you?"

She reluctantly opened her eyes and maneuvered into a sitting position, "Some chick's trashed apartm-". Faith abruptly stopped talked and just stared at the other half of the bed. It was empty. A quick looked around the room revealed a distinct lack of anyone other than herself. She deliberately slowed her breathing and listened carefully for anything in the next room and the nearby areas and got nothing. At least nothing she wanted to hear. "Fuck."

Buffy's concerned voice floated back to her from the forgotten phone in her hand, "Faith?".

"I met this chick in a bar last night. She was drinking to forget that she'd killed a man she claimed had the ability to control people by just talking to them. We got drunk and I followed her home. Nothing happened, don't know if she even considered why I came with her, but she's gone now." Faith got up from the bed and tried to get her shoes on one-handed. Sicking her feet into them were easy enough, but tying them was a lost cause.

"Okaaay..." The skepticism was mostly held back but the other Slayer clearly expected her to follow up her semi-ramble with more explanations. "She has left you alone in her own apartment, without telling you she was leaving? Isn't that supposed to be the other way? You leaving before your latest conquest wakes up?"

"Haha. Nothing happened. B, she was able to jump up onto a fire escape six feet above the ground. And she's not one of us because I can't sense the Essense in her, but there's *something* off about her."

The concern was back, "You think she's evil? Or do you think it's something else?"

That was the million dollar question, wasn't it? The less expensive question was how the fuck did she manage to get up off the bed, get dressed, and leave without her noticing? Even when drunk she slept lightly.

"Don't think she's evil. A drunk with anger management issues, but not evil." That was one of the few things she was certain about. Giving up on tying her shoes, for now, she grabbed her jacket off a nearby chair and walked back into the room she'd entered through last night. Yeah, it still looked like there'd been one hell of a fight there recently. "Huh".

"What? Did you find her?"

"No, but she claimed she was a P.I. yesterday and this apartment clearly doubles as an office for something called Alias Investigations." She'd had to read the name twice as she'd thought it read 'Angel Investigations' the first time and she had to give it a double take. There was a desk with a half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey on top, along with a mug, some paperwork, a laptop, and a charger. High up on the wall behind the desk was a row of bullet holes. Clearly, the alcohol abuse wasn't a new thing.

"Look, B, I'll check out what's going on here and try and find what's her name, and then I'll get back to you. Okay?"

"Wait! You slept in this woman's home, she confessed to killing someone, and you still don't know her name?" The amusement was back, but there was also a touch of 'only you get into situations like that'.

"Haha. I'll call you tonight at the latest." They exchanged quick goodbyes and Faith put the phone in her back pocket. After putting her jacket back on and tying her shoes now that her hands were finally free, she decided to take a look around. There wasn't much in there, and even less of personal value. Clothes, personal hygiene, loose paperwork regarding clients, random impersonal stuff, and the laptop. Chances were the latter was the only thing the other woman would miss, everything else was replaceable.

It reminded her harshly of her life before, except in her case everything was replaceable except her weapons. Laptops were not a big thing back in the 90's/early 00's. At least not the way they were now. If she was honest, the only thing she still really needed was her weapons. There was stuff she'd miss but it wouldn't change anything.

After a second pass of the apartment, she decided it was a bust and decided to see if there was someone she could ask about her sort-of host last night. The glass in the apartment door had been smashed, but for some unknown reason, the door had still been locked. Deciding to humor the crazy lady she locked it behind her by sticking her arm through the broken glass and locking it from the inside.

After three steps away from the door, another door opened on her left side and a black guy stepped out.

"What were you doing in Jessica's apartment?" The guy had stopped and partly blocked her way. But, hey, she had a name now.

"Jessica? Is that her name?"

"Jessica Jones. She owns Alias Investigations. Are you a client?" He didn't sound like he believed that for a second, but it seemed to be a probable option. Unless he thought she was with whoever had trashed the place.

"No," Faith replied. And then she decided to go for the truth, because why not? "I met her at a bar last night and followed her home. Only she was gone when I woke up." Take that however you want, she thought silently as she watched his eyes go wide and his mouth drop open.

"Do you know where she is? We didn't get to the part where we introduced ourselves."

"I'm Malcolm, Jessica's neighbor. She went to Hogarth's office for something."

A fast Q&A for an address and Faith was out the door. She needed to find Jessica and get some answers.


	3. The Night After the Night Before

Written for the 2018 August Fic-A-Day, Day 27.

Hours later and it was getting dark. A quick stop at Hogarth, Chao, and Benowitz looking for Jessica Jones had resulted in a verbal fight with Jeri Hogarth. All she got was that the lawyer would occasionally hire Jessica on a freelance basis to get dirt on people so she could up the odds of winning her cases. She also proved herself to be a first class bitch. Faith had cut her losses and simply left.

Her non-Slayer but super-powered target seemed to have vanished. Most of the daylight hours had been spent by dropping by the various watering holes in walking and running distance from the apartment she'd woken up in, but by nightfall she had nothing. It wasn't until it was nearly dark she spotted her sitting on a fire escape, drinking a bottle of cheap whiskey by the smell of it, and staring morosely at the burned out bar across the street. If she hadn't found her in another hour she would've just returned to the apartment and waited there. Common sense said she'd return home at some point.

Faith walked until she stood directly under the fire escape, at the same making sure Jessica was watching her, and then bent her knees a little and jumped straight up. A few seconds later she was sitting beside last night's drinking companion. "Any particular reason you're sitting up here drinking in the dark while watching a gutted bar?"

Faith's brown eyes met Jessica's hazel-green one across the small space. "I'm Faith, by the way."

"Jessica Jones," came the automatic but suspicious reply. Then she blinked and took another swing of the paper bag wrapped bottle. "You jumped up."

"So did you, last night." The dark-haired woman just looked back at her. "How long have you been able to do that?"

"Almost two decades." Interesting. Faith still couldn't feel the Slayer Essense even this close to the other woman and there didn't seem to be anything supernatural about her. Except for the part where she could jump over six feet straight up while drunk. It wasn't a feat most people could do while sober without there being something *extra* about them.

The timeframe didn't add up with the mass Calling of the Potentials back in 2003, as it had only been 12-13 years, not nearly 20. She could've been Chosen after B's second or third death, but that didn't add up either. Faith blinked. Hadn't someone told her B was Chosen back in 1996? It was 2016, that meant Buffy had been a Slayer for two decades. That should be a cause for celebration or commiseration or something. It was a thought for later when she wasn't trying to recruit a superstrong alcoholic.

Regardless, Jessica had said *almost* twenty years, that meant she'd gotten her powers after B. Probably after she herself was activated in '98. So, it had most likely happened between '99 and '01. Plenty of things had happened during that time.

"Any other special skills? Superhuman strength, particularly good senses? Anything like that?" Hey, maybe she'd even give an honest answer.

"I'm a lot stronger than normal people. Why do you ask? Do you have those abilities?"

A truth for a truth, or something like that. "Yes, superhuman strength and speed. Enhanced senses and some other stuff."

The suspicion was back in full force and she sat up straighter as she put down the bottle. Probably to keep her hands free in case she needed to defend herself. It was a wise move. "Where are you going with this? Who are you working for?"

"Just checking to see if you're like me or something else. If you're telling the truth then it doesn't add up with how I got mine, even if you do have some of the same nifty abilities." Faith gave the street below a slow scan for anything needing her attention, then made eye-contact with Jessica again. "And I work for the Sineya Council."

She kept a close eye on Jessica's face to see if the name was familiar to her at all, but the woman showed no recognition whatsoever. Probably a good thing, but she might need their protection now or at some other point if her trashed apartment was any indication. If she was willing to ask for help from near-strangers who stalked her for a day to ask very private questions about things that didn't really concern her.

"So," Faith continued, "Strength and speed, but no fancy senses. Anything else?"

Jessica rolled her eyes but replied a little sullenly. "I can run really fast for really long without getting tired. Like across New York, and a mile under four minutes." That was impressive, especially for someone who wasn't supernatural in any way. Slayers were even faster, but it could still come in really useful. Like in situations where their prey could sense anyone who wasn't entirely human. If she agreed then she could be the first wave in certain situations to give them a much-needed edge. Granted, of course, she was more difficult to damage than your average person.

"I heal really fast, too. Scratches and small wounds in a few hours, broken ribs in a day or so. And I can sort of fly. Or it's more jumping high in the air and then controlling the fall. My best friend insists it's some kind of flying."

Faith nodded. It was a lot like her powers, except for the interference by the PTB by way of Dreams. Slayers couldn't fly, but they could jump really high even if they couldn't control the fall the way Jessica apparently could. It might be something for her and B to try out sometime when they had a few hours to kill by themselves.

"I don't suppose you'd be interested in a new job? Full or part-time, we're not choosey." Jessica just stared at her again, so she added. "We have a lot of people with a similar skill set to yours, they're like me, but we can always use more." That was the first option, making her a personal ally and possibly an ally to the Council would be a close second.

Faith fished out her card from an inner pocket and handed it over. "You don't have to decide right now, but think about it. Call if you want to have a show and tell about what we do, and I'll set up a meeting." A thought occurred to her and she said, "Give me the card again." She searched through her pockets for a small pen she knew was in one of them and when she finally located it she took the card back and scribbled her personal phone number on the back of it. The number printed on the card went to their switchboard and the wait could take some time if Faith was busy, or whoever was manning the phones was occupied with something else.

"You're fucking serious. You want to hire me for some organization. To do what exactly?" Well, at least she kept a somewhat open mind, even if Faith was pretty certain the card would end up in the nearest trash can as soon as she was out of sight.

"Um, classified I'm afraid. You need to sign shit to be told, but there is no binding contract for anything other than keeping your mouth shut about us and what we do." That part sucked, it would've been so much easier if she could've given an overview of the job description. Stupid maturity and responsibility. "If you're not interested all you have to do is say no and we'll respect that."

They would still keep an occasional eye on her, just in case. But they wouldn't interfere unless it was absolutely necessary. Freedom of choice and all that shit.

Faith rose enough to jump back down to the street. "You're not going to force me or blackmail me or whatever?"

"Nope. It's your choice." Then she smirked, "Give me a call if you want the meeting, or if you just want to try sparring with me. I'm definitely up for that." She jumped down and landed softly on the tarmac before she strode off in the same direction she'd arrived from.


End file.
